


Short-stack and Jerk-face

by MountainRose



Series: Tumblr Prompts [11]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Chronic Illness, Chronic Pain, M/M, Naproxen, Scoliosis, Skinny!Steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 05:15:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5615248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MountainRose/pseuds/MountainRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Enchantress gives Steve a 'gift' of the worst kind, but it does give him the courage to do something he's been meaning to get to for a while.</p><p>Written for http://thelostamazingcity.tumblr.com  for embarrassed skinny!Steve with a crush.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Short-stack and Jerk-face

“Tony, please, just, I’m fine.”

Tony doubts it, enough to propel himself into the room from his perch in the doorway. Steve looks stuck, actually, his feet on the floor and his upper body still on the pillows. His shoulders are so narrow now than he almost disappears into the bedding, enveloped like it’s going to consume him at any moment. His spindly little hands clutch at the knees of his PJs, like he’s trying to move his legs that way, but he freezes with a hiss that Tony hasn’t heard since the idiot last took a bullet. 

There’s a scattering of abandoned clothes on the floor, so Tony kicks them away to make himself some space, and crouches so he can look Steve in the face. 

“Me or the nurse, Steve, ‘c’mon. You’re in pain, it’s unnecessary, let me help.”

Steve’s pale as milk, an even color born from straight up pain. At least he’s not wheezing and the prophylactic inhaler on the bedside table has been used this morning. He reaches forwards to tug Steve’s hand from its death grip.

“…fine. I’ll be alright once I’m straight. It’s just–”

“Stop saying ‘just’, Steve, nothing’s ‘just’ when you feel like shit.” 

He’s not going to argue, or try and make him stay in bed; any idiot can tell that Steve wouldn’t be moved by anything less than first hand evidence.Tony offers his forearms and Steve makes room for them under his arms, bracing so that when Tony stands, he’ll be pulled upright without hurting anything too much. In theory. Tony’s seen this done once, and if Steve gets any paler, he’ll be camouflaged with the bedding ( _ should have gone with the blue, Tony). _

“Ready?”

Steve nods, taking a settling breath, and Tony stands, slowly as he can manage it.

It’s like Steve’s backbone is a string of beads, all jumbled up, and you’ve got to pull on one end to get them back into alignment. Only with more nerves and blood vessels.

_ there he goes. _

A thin gasp followed by a panicked exclamation and Steve is thrashing in his arms, chanting “Down, down! Down!” Tony’s heart clenches in sympathy and he lowers Steve back to the mattress.

At least he’s laid out straight this time…

XXXXXXXXXXX

Steve’s face is on fire, this is  _ dreadful _ . Even before the serum, his scoliosis hadn’t been like this, and he’s blaming the boot Amora had planted in his spine for that. He’d at least managed to hit her with the shield before the menace was captured.

It’s so frustrating, being back in this… With all his weaknesses back. He can’t see the red in Tony’s lips anymore, which is a crying shame. Everything is shades of blue and yellow, even his own room looks foreign, alien. His hands are the only thing steady about his whole body, from the muscle tremors when his breathing worsens, to the electric spasms of pain down his legs.

That last one he blames on his spine and it’s blinding even when he’s laid back like this.

He’s making these little noises, he can’t stifle them as much as he’d like, and Tony’s saying something about nerve blocks, and heat packs, and  _ Mary, help me, please _ , but Steve loves him. A heat pack would be perfect, but he doesn’t want Tony to step away for even that long; he’s too necessary. 

For breathing, for  _ living _ though this.

“It’ll come back, Steve, minute the spell lifts, you’ll be back, okay?”

Steve clings to that, though he can’t exactly cling to Tony without giving himself away, and slowly the nerve pain abates. It’s like he’s just run a minute mile, he can’t catch his breath and his legs feel like jello, but the worst of the pain fades. 

It’s replaced by  _ crippling _ humiliation. It had to be Tony who found him, didn’t it? The one person he actually minded seeing him weak. Clint would have been perfect, actually, but it’s not like he can bear to send Tony away; this crush is out of hand, he has no handle on it whatsoever.

“Here, pain meds, water. In that order please.” 

Steve accepts the shiny pills, and drinks from the sports bottle without lifting his head to wash them down. Fed like a baby,  _ godamnit _ . He’d had it planned out, too; shock Tony into silence, ask out to dinner, establish mutualness of attraction. Bam, no more of this waiting.

But no, he’s in bed, with Tony fucking Stark lifting his legs up onto the mattress for him, one at a time. For a second, Steve’s splayed out, one leg up on the mattress, knee slightly bent, the other still on the floor, and while the lewdness of the moment probably eludes Tony, Steve feels very naked, and slightly less ‘small’ than he did a second ago. Fortunately, his massively oversized pj’s keep him from making a scene, and it quickly becomes a non-issue. 

Stabbing nerve pain in the inner thigh can do that to a man. 

“Jhesus Steve…”

“Get me that heatpack, huh? And–” he bumbles to a stop, goes dark red again, and  _ goes for it, come on Rogers _ . 

“Take me to dinner?”

Tony doesn’t respond immediately, the gears turning like there’s something gumming up the works.

“You mean–”

“As a date. Once I’m not a health hazard, please? Something to look forwards to.” 

He  _ knows _ his face shows off his– well, it’s not quite embarrassment, more like excitement and nerves  _ and _ the prospect of humiliation, all wrapped up into one neat package.

“Me, really?”

“There’s no one else, Shellhead, c’mon, humor me? We might have a good time.” 

Steve stares him down, those ridiculous eyes boring back into him right up until they crease with something happy and sparkly.

“Yeah, sure Short Stack. I’d like that.”

Steve beams like an idiot, back pain eclipsed by this moment.

“Aah, hey, as your boyfriend, am I allowed to keep you in bed? Cause, you are a leaf in the wind, buddy.”

“Asshole.”

“You’re the one who wants to date, jerkface.” 

“Who you callin’ jerkface, numbskull.” 

“Ugh, you’re the worst. Go to sleep– no wait! You gotta eat, then naproxen, then sleep.” 

Steve doesn’t even feel the desire to protest, it’s actually quite pleasant.


End file.
